


Taphophobia

by crushondeanlikeafairy



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: A Bit Not Good, Buried Alive, Carbon Dioxide Poisoning, Case Fic, Gen, Minor Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, Original Character(s), Suicide, not a main character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 21:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15374037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushondeanlikeafairy/pseuds/crushondeanlikeafairy
Summary: Taphophobia - the fear of being buried alivei.e. Oliver is in trouble.





	Taphophobia

**Author's Note:**

> This little plot bunny hopped into my head last night and it's been bothering me ever since. So here we are.
> 
> Note: This is loosely based on an episode of Bones, "Aliens in a Spaceship"

The air is dry and Oliver can't bring himself to suppress a cough he feels tickling in the back of his throat. There's a pounding behind his eyes and he doesn't want to open them, knowing that any light would make the pain worse. He feels almost dizzy like he'd fall if he wasn't already lying down.  _Wait,_ he thought suddenly,  _why am I on the floor?_ Oliver reaches up to scratch at his head, halting suddenly when he realizes that his hands have been zip tied together. He opens his eyes to look and sees nothing but pitch black. Oliver sits up suddenly, dizziness was forgotten, only for his head to slam into the unseen surface above him. Falling onto his back once more, he sucks in a deep breath as he reaches upward with his joined hands, feeling only cold metal beneath his palms.

Oliver couldn't remember how he could've gotten into this situation, whatever drug that was causing his headache also addling his memory. He was wearing his Green Arrow suit, so he figured he must have been on a mission. No matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn't remember. Oliver decided instead to figure out just how big his confines were. The archer didn't need to test the sides, he could feel the walls on both of his shoulders. With his feet up against the end, he just barely fit in whatever kind of box he was in. Oliver reached up to the top, feeling around for some sort of latch. He knew it was a fool's errand, but he had to try. When that failed, he decided instead that slamming his fists into the ceiling as hard as he could would be a good course of action. The lid to his confines didn't budge, not even when he let loose and kicked with all his might. He couldn't even feel vibrations moving through the metal, which could only mean one thing. There was a lot of weight on top of him. 

It hit him suddenly. He was underground. He had to be, it was the only explanation. The realization caused his heart to start pounding in his chest, and it took everything in him to keep his breathing under control. Oliver needed to remain calm and keep from panicking.

"There's got to be something," he muttered to the darkness. He checked the pockets on his suit as best he could, the ones he could reach anyway, and found that all of his gear was gone. Even his boots were gone, meaning his tracker was no longer on him. That had been about what he had expected.

If he remembered correctly, the team had been after someone who buried people in metal ice boxes. As far as they could tell, this person was exacting revenge. The only marker of where the people were buried was a sign either painted on a wall or stuck in the ground. So far the messages had consisted of, "She trusted you," or one simply said "Murderer."  Felicity had been in the middle of finding a connection between the two victims when her systems had picked up a phone call to SCPD. A street vendor had seen somebody digging a hole behind an old warehouse. The team had thought it was potentially their guy, so Oliver and Dig had gone to check it out.

"I guess we were right," Oliver commented snidely, then it struck him, "Dig."

He had no idea where his friend was. If he was in another hole in the dark somewhere, if he was even still alive. Oliver couldn't remember the last time he saw his friend. He couldn't remember anything after arriving at the site. They had found an empty hole and nothing else and that the last thing he could recall.

Oliver reached up to his chest and pressed his comms. It was a long shot. Even if his comms were still intact, if he was too far underground, they wouldn't be able to get a signal.

He heard them crackle and prayed to any deity that was listening.

"Felicity..." he called desperately, aware of the fear that was leaking into his voice.

"Ol-er...er!" 

* * *

 

2 Hours Earlier 

* * *

 

"Oliver?!" Felicity shouted through the comms, "John?!"

She was panicking. There was no camera surveillance at the warehouse and that fact had already had her on edge. But a few minutes ago a firefight had gone down and she had lost contact. It had been quiet since.

Whoever this person was, they were smart. They had created a benzodiazepine that acted instantly, rendering the victim unconscious. She knew that John was down for sure, she had heard as much through the comms before Oliver's had gone quiet as well. She just hoped it hadn't been the drug or else she was looking at being left in the dark for several hours. If that was the case, she was going to have to get some sneakers on because she did not plan on waiting that long. 

It turned out to be a moot point because she heard coughing and immediately turned back to her screens.

"Guys?!" she called urgently.

"Felicity."

"John? Oh, thank god! Are you okay? Where's Oliver?!"

"He's gone," John answered, coughing again.

"What do you mean?!"

"Someone came up behind me and hit me with something heavy. Oliver came to make sure I was alright and I saw him get injected with something and then I was out. He's gone, Felicity."

Felicity rolled back her chair a bit, leaning back in shock. She blinked a few times, taking in this new information. She lost Oliver. Again.  _When is this going to stop happening?!_ she thought angrily,  _Why is it so hard for me to keep a husband?_

"I'm going to look around for a trail or something. You check the surrounding security cameras, see if you can find anything."

Felicity nodded, belatedly realizing that he couldn't see her.

"Felicity," John called, "We'll find him."

"I know," she answered distantly, "Ok."

She rolled her chair back up to her desk, back to work. She had to find her husband again. A little while later, Dig called in.

"I found a body in the hole they were digging. The chest is open and their throat's been cut. I guess we interrupted and they decided to speed things up. Did you find anything?"

Felicity sighed in exasperation, "No! His tracker is gone! The cameras around the area didn't pick anything up. I've tried his comms but I got nothing."

She heard John give a frustrated groan, "Ok. I'm coming back. I'll get what I can from the body then call SCPD. We'll figure something out."

Two hours later, John and Felicity still hadn't found anything. They had no idea where Oliver was. The only thing they did have an idea of was what was going to happen to him if they didn't find him and that Felicity could not allow to happen.

"This... this is impossible!" she shouted in anger, throwing her hands up above her head, spinning around to face Diggle, "How is it possible for them to have left nothing?"

"Did you find anything on who this latest victim was?" John asked, leaning on the back of her chair as he watched her type. Felicity switched to the screen she had been running the background check on. John had taken the man's wallet and she had run his i.d. through her database.

"Ordinary guy just like the other two. Jake Mence. Twenty-eight years old. Same as the others. Born and raised in Star City. The others were an electrician and a baseball player for the Star City Rockets, this one was a groundskeeper. Good news is, I did find out that he maintained Papp Stadium, where our second guy, Ronny Vega, played his games. So it is possible that they do know each other, or have at least met, but I haven't been able to find any records, digital or otherwise. And the electrician, James Henley, still hasn't been connected."

"Okay, so it's possible we're looking at a Papp Stadium connection. We could start there."

"Since we have nothing to go on, it's worth a shot. But we have a problem, this guy has Oliver. Assuming he's going to do what he did to these men, he's going to bury him alive," Felicity whispered, staring blankly at her screens, "We don't know when, or if he already has, but... we do know that they only have about five and a half hours of air in there. We... what if we don't find him in time, John?"

Diggle comes to kneel beside her, turning her chair so that she was facing him. He grabbed her hand to get her attention and squeezed it to emphasize his point. 

"You can't think like that. We will find him.  _You_ are Felicity Smoak. Oliver married  _you_ because he loves and trusts in  _you._ And we both know he's a pretty smart man when he wants to be. So I know you can do this. Oliver knows you can do this."

Felicity sniffed, feeling the tears welling in her eyes. But she wouldn't let them fall. She needed to be strong. The blonde was about to answer him when a sound crackled over the commlinks, echoing throughout the bunker.

"Fe-li...i-ty."

The pair of vigilantes both looked sharply to the screen, then back at each other in shock. They were in action in an instant. The comms were linked in the other computer, so Felicity rolled her chair across the platform as Dig followed.

"Oliver!" she shouted, "Oliver, can you hear me?"

"Ki-in...uv," he answered after a solid minute of silence. The sound was broken up, but that was him.

"Oliver, do you know where you are? Are you alright?" John asked urgently, speaking slowly, hoping to get as many syllables through as he could. It was clear the connection was weak.

"I do-no."

"Felicity," John turned to his friend, "Can you clean it up? Strengthen the signal somehow?"

"Uh... I can try," she answered thoughtfully, looking back at the screen and typing like a madwoman.

"J-o-ohn?"

"We're still here. Hang on a minute," John responded.

"I think I got it. The signal's jumbled, like it's having trouble reaching the system. But I think I can amplify it so we can hear it better. Clean it up on our end. I'm not sure how well he'll be able to hear us though."

"It'll have to do, get it done," he ordered, watching her work intently.

She worked for a bit before shouting, "Done!" as she pressed one final key.

"Oliver? Oliver, can you hear us now?"

There was silence for a minute, and Felicity panicked that she had accidentally cut off the signal entirely.

"Not any better."

Felicity let out a sigh of relief, before looking up at John, "We're still cutting out for. There's going to be a delay before responses. We'll have to speak slowly, and keep our sentences short."

He nodded in return before addressing Oliver again, "Do you know where you are?"

"I have an idea," he answered after another long silence, "I think I'm underground."

Felicity shut her eyes, "Please mean 'underground' like a basement?"

"Sorry, no."

"Dammit," John shouted, slamming his fist onto the desk, "Do you see anything that can help us find you?"

"I, uh, I can't see anything. It's kind of dark in here," Oliver responded, and Felicity could hear fear tinging his voice. Could feel how hard it was for him to keep his cool. He had told her once how he hated pitch dark, hated not being able to see the threats that he  _knew_ were always lurking. Even so, she was amazed once again by how brave her husband was. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that most people would not be able to restrain themselves from screaming for help, wasting their air, and giving themselves less time to make it out alive.

"There's nothin-"

"John! I can't see anything! There isn't anything!" Oliver snapped, and Felicity knew it was getting to him.

"Oliver, honey, you need to stay calm. Give us as much time as you can," Felicity said softly, hoping her message got through.

"I know," he answered a minute later, "I'm trying."

"Do you have any idea how long you've been down there already?"

"No, I just woke up a couple minutes ago... I think. I don't know for sure."

"Ok, what's the last thing you remember?" John asked, nicer this time. He hadn't been rude before necessarily, but he was keeping his voice softer to help Oliver stay calm.

"You and I arriving at the site where the... grave was being dug. But that's it."

"We found a body there. Not buried. Just dead."

Oliver didn't answer that. Blaming himself probably.

"Was there a message?" he said after a while.

"None. Didn't have time probably," John said, before murmuring to Felicity on the side, "We have a lot of ground to cover with just the two of us."

"I kn-"

They were interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing. John looked down at his own in shock.

"Who is it?" Felicity whispered harshly, looking down at the phone.

"It says... restoration?" John said before answering the phone and setting in on the table, pressing the speaker button, "Hello?"

"Is this the lair of the Green Arrow?" a robotic voice filtered through the speakers.

"Who is that?" Oliver asked through the comms.

"Oops. Hold on," the voice said, and then there was a loud metallic screech before Oliver's line was disconnected.

"Oliver!" Felicity called, looking at the screens urgently.

"Don't bother. Sorry about that, I took some sort of doo-hickey off of him but I didn't realize what it did. I guess it was part of your communicators. Must be why it worked. He is six feet under, so that's the only explanation. You don't want him talking much anyway, wastes oxygen."

"What do you want?" John demanded.

"What I want is my revenge. Justice needs to be served. Restorations need to be made. But instead, I find the local vigilantes trying to interrupt me. Imagine my surprise when I found out that the Green Arrow is our beloved mayor. A mayor who once  _defended_ vigilantes publicly. Don't you understand that I am doing what you do?!"

"What you do is cold-blooded murder!" Felicity shouted.

"Differences of opinion. Nothing more," the voice answered, calm once more, "The point is, I want to be left alone. I have one more person to deal with. One more wrong to be made right. Lay off me until he is in the ground, and I'll tell you where Oliver is. By my math, your friend should have four and a half hours of oxygen left, provided he can stay calm. It shouldn't take me that long to finish my last act, so you'll have plenty of time to dig him up."

"We're going to find him before then, and we'll stop you. You're not taking any more lives," John said aggressively.

The robotic voice laughed, "You can try. But if you do, I can guarantee that I will be taking more lives and one of them will be that of Oliver Queen."

They heard a click and then a dial tone.

Felicity immediately turned back to her screens, watching them intently.

"What are you doing?" John asked.

"I was tracing his call. He's not very tech-savvy. He didn't even bother to hide his signal," she answered distractedly, focused on her work, "He's in an apartment at Fairmont and Croft. Go!"

"Felicity, you are amazing!" John shouted as he grabbed his gun and ran for the elevator.

* * *

 

"Ooo...H-ng-n," a voice Oliver didn't recognize filtered through the comms, followed by a loud screeching sound that echoed through the small space, ringing in Oliver's ears. Unable to cover his ears, Oliver squeezed his eyes shut and flinched away from the noise. The throbbing in his head picked up and the feeling that he was moving washed over him. Benzodiazepines were a real nuisance, Oliver decided in that moment.

"Felicity?" Oliver called once the feelings of vertigo had passed, "John?!"

Nothing.

"Great," he grumbled to himself, punching the lid with both his hand in frustration. For a moment he considered trying to free his wrists from the zip-tie holding them tightly together, but in the confined space he didn't have the room to get the proper leverage.

"Ok," he mumbled softly, "Stay calm."

He forced himself to take deep, steady breathes to even out his breathing.

"Felicity said before that these things hold about five and a half hours of oxygen."

Oliver stopped that line of thought. He wanted to problem solve, to distract himself. But there were too many unknown variables. He had no idea how long he'd been down here already, no way of telling how much time would pass. Unless he counted the seconds, but that would defeat his purpose of distracting himself.

He wished he hadn't have gotten into this situation in his Green Arrow suit, instead of something more comfortable. If he had to be buried in a small, dark, metal box then he could have at least had a cotton shirt or something instead of a hot leather suit.

It did occur to Oliver that maybe he wasn't sweating because of the suit but because he could feel himself slowly beginning to panic. He chose not to think about it. Just like he chose to focus on how rude whoever put him down here was for leaving him in this uncomfortable suit.

Focusing on that fact kept him from thinking that he was going to die down here. That Felicity wasn't going to be able to find anything to lead them here, where ever 'here' even was. That John was just one man and there was no way in hell that he was going to be able to cover enough ground to find him in time. That he had effectively driven away every person that would have been capable of helping in the search.

"Oh, God," he whispered to himself, shutting his eyes tight even though it made no difference to his line of vision.

He could feel his heart beating faster in his chest, his breathes coming quicker. The archer forced himself to inhale as he counted to four, and exhaling to the count of four. He did so until his heart slowed to a not-quite-normal pace. Using a bow and arrow required patience and calm. He had those things abundance, he just needed to find them now.

"You can do this, you have the easy job here," Oliver told himself, trying to force the tremor from his voice, "They'll find me."

He let out a deep breath and opened his eyes, staring into the blackness surrounding him.

"Felicity will find me." 

* * *

 

John slammed the man into the wall, causing a framed photo nearby to fall off its hook and shatter on the floor. The man didn't cower, but the ex-soldier could tell that he was intimidated.  _Good,_ he thought. That could be used in his favour.

"Where is my friend?" John shouted in his face, grabbing the cloth at the man's shoulders and pulling him forward to slam him into the wall once more, "Where is he?!"

The man laughed, smiling up at Diggle, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"So that's how you want to play this?" John asked, rearing back and punching the man square in the jaw, then again, let the man drop to the floor. The guy they'd been looking for had ended up being in his early fifties, his brown hair greying at the edges and with tired green eyes framed by wrinkles. He hadn't shaved in a few days, his rectangular jaw covered in a scruffy beard that could use a wash. His clothes were dirty and worn, although they looked like they used to be nice.

"John," Felicity said through his comm, "I know why he's doing this."

"Tell me," he responded, kicking the man harshly in the abdomen when he tried to get up.

"His name is Sam Rest. He used to have a daughter, Hope, who died when she was twenty-five three years ago."

"That's about the age of the victims."

"That's because she died in a car crash. The electrician, James Henley, was her boyfriend. They were coming home from a party, he was drunk when he swerved into a van that Jake Mence was driving with Ronny Vega and another guy, Al Feng. I gotta figure he was the last guy. It just so happened, they were all high off their gourd at the time. Hope and James' car hit a construction area. The car got crushed by some rubble. James got out, Hope didn't."

John was quiet for a moment, letting it sink in. These four men were all driving while under the influence and because of it, Hope Rest was killed. Spartan bend down, yanking Sam back up by the front of his shirt.

"Listen to me, Sam," he started, clocking the look of shock on the older man's face, "I know you want revenge for Hope's death. I know you blame these men. And you're right. What they did was dangerous and stupid and they deserve to be punished. Not like this."

"But, Hope-"

"Is dead. And this isn't going to bring her back," John implored, "And I don't think she'd want this. And my friend? Oliver? He doesn't deserve this. He's the kind of guy who goes after men like James and puts them away. He protects people like Hope."

"Then where was he when she was suffocating underneath that pile of rock, while her no good boyfriend got to walk out alive? They deserve the same thing they put my baby girl through. And apparently, your friend does too, since he's just another man that let her down."

"Sam, please. Tell us where Oliver is, and we can go track down Al Feng together. We'll turn him into the authorities. We'll do this the right way," John pleaded, trying to get the man to see sense.

But he only laughed a sick laughter that lacked humour, "Sorry. A little late. You guys were interrupting my plans, so I had to speed up my timetable."

Sam looked off to the dark corner of the room. John dropped the older man to the floor and headed to the couch, where he switched the lamp. On the floor was a young Asian man who he assumed was Al Feng. He had his arms secured to the leg of the couch with zip-ties two cinderblocks placed on top of his chest. John swore under his breath.

"Now they all know what she felt, right before she died," Sam Rest murmured from the floor where John left him, staring distantly at Al Feng's body, "And now it's my turn."

"What do you mean?" John turned to look at Sam, who looked up at him when he was addressed.

"I'm just another man who let her down," he said, a tear sliding down her face, "And I'm sorry but... you kept searching. I can't help you now."

The man reached behind him and pulled a gun from the back of his pants. John hadn't clocked it before because the man hadn't tried to use it.

"Wait!" he shouted, running toward the older man and reaching out. But he was too late and a  _bang_ echoed through the apartment as Sam Rest's body dropped to the floor.

"What happened?!" Felicity's worried voice sounded.

Diggle sighed, taking his helmet off, "He's dead."

"What?!"

"He shot himself."

"But... how are we supposed to find Oliver?!"

"We're going to need help." 

* * *

 

Thirty minutes later, Felicity arrived in Sam Rest's apartment with Quentin and Thea following close behind her.

"What the hell is going on?" Thea asked as she walked inside, taking in the two corpses, "John?"

"One crushed the other and then shot himself," he explained quickly, "Now, did Felicity explain the situation to you guys?"

"Oliver's in trouble again?" Quentin shrugged, "Didn't give us details. Just said it was urgent."

Felicity sighed, and stepped in front of them, "This guy, right here, he's the man who's been burying people alive. He was trying to avenge his daughter's death. Obviously, we royally messed up on this one given that he killed all the people he wanted to kill and then himself."

"And the issue here is..." Thea asked, tilting her head in confusion.

"And... in the process of trying to stop him, he got the drop on Oliver. He took him. And we're trying to find him before he runs out of air."

"Wait," Thea said suddenly, waving her hands in the air to shut Felicity up, "He buried my brother?"

"Yes..." Felicity answered quietly, followed by a meek smile.

"Aw, hell," Quentin swore under his breath, "How much time do we have?"

"Now, we're probably down to just over three hours," John explained, "And this man, Sam Rest, shot himself before I could get the location from him. He had a gun and I missed it."

"Hey," the deputy mayor piped up, "I'm derailing this train of guilt before it can leave the station. This isn't on you."

Diggle nodded his thanks, "Either way, we're low on time. Felicity and I figured you two could help us sort through the apartment, maybe Rest left something behind that could clue us in."

Thea ran a hand through her short brown hair and stared down at her feet, "I'd really love if he could just stay out of trouble."

"Wouldn't we all," Quentin concurred, putting an arm around her shoulder to offer some form of comfort, "But we'll get him out again. Come on."

They all broke off to cover different corners of the apartment, with Felicity taking the computer in the living room. It took about an hour but eventually, they had thoroughly combed through the entire place. Felicity was sitting at the desk when Quentin came in from the bedroom.

"Anything?" she asked, turning the desk chair around to look at him.

The ex-cop shrugged in defeat, "There is nothing in there. Just a bed and photos of his daughter."

Felicity saw the sadness cloud his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I know this is hitting a little close to home."

"I mean, yea, it's dragging things up," he said, looking up at Felicity, "But I'm not going anywhere, Oliver needs our help."

"Thank you," she responded earnestly.

Thea came in then from the second bedroom.

"I think that was Hope's bedroom," she said, shutting the door behind her, "There isn't anything useful in there."

She was looking stressed. Her hair was frayed and her clothes weren't straight and orderly anymore like she just forgot to stop fixing them as she searched. Felicity couldn't blame her. She was sure that she looked the same way, with little blonde hairs slipping out of her ponytail. A man they both loved more than they could put into words was in trouble.

"Kitchen and bathroom are clean too," Diggle says, coming up to join the group.

Felicity sighed, "I went through his entire computer. Nothing. He didn't keep any records of what he was doing."

"But he didn't plan on making it out of this anyway... why?" Thea asked.

"Maybe he was worried that evidence would bring down law enforcement before he had the chance to finish?" Quentin suggested.

"Makes sense," John agreed, "But that still leaves us with nothing to go on."

"I don't think so," the deputy mayor theorized, "Maybe we should look at timing? You said you surprised him at the third grave site?"

When Felicity and John nodded in agreement, he continued.

"Two hours passed between him taking Oliver and calling you, but the way you guys told it, Oliver had already been down there an hour. So that leaves one hour for this Rest guy to bury Oliver."  
  
"And?" Thea asked, urgency lacing her voice.

"And... it takes longer than that to dig a grave. Especially if you're one man doing it with just a shovel. Especially considering he wasn't planning this."

"So," Felicity started thoughtfully, "If we can find somewhere within that time frame, where he could have found a hole already dug... then we can find Oliver!"

"Exactly," Quentin nodded.

"We need to get back to the bunker," Felicity shouted, rising from the chair and racing for the door, "I'll write an algorithm. We can find him!" 

* * *

 

Felicity was sitting at her own computer now, searching through maps of Star City, checking each location that her algorithm had highlighted. John and Thea were standing behind, shifting about uneasily. Thea was biting her nails and Felicity was certain that if John tapped his foot one more time she'd lose her mind. Quentin had stepped out a little while ago, with a promise to be back when they found something. This case was dredging up painful memories for him and he had needed some time and air. She couldn't begrudge him that.

"We're running out of time," Thea remarked nervously.

"I know!" Felicity shouted in return, before turning around to give her sister-in-law an apologetic smile. The brunette nodded in understanding. Emotions were running high.

They only had an hour left and with each second that the clock counted down, the tension in the room grew. Thea and John were used to action, they needed a target. Standing around, waiting, and doing nothing while someone they cared about suffered was a torment to them.

The sound of Felicity's phone ringing caused everyone in the room to jump, if only a little bit, like springs that had been wound too tight. She reached for her phone and put it on speaker.

"Quentin?"

"Hey, is Starling Cemetery on your list?"

"Uh... yes! Why?"

"Well, I came here to visit Sara and Laurel and I think I might have found Oliver."

"We're on our way!"

The trio was up in a heartbeat, making a run for the exit. 

* * *

 

"Where?" John demanded as they entered the cemetery, spotting Quentin not too far inland. He came rushing up to greet them, pointing behind him.

"This way."

John gave them all a shovel and the group ran after Quentin. The plot he led them to wasn't too far in, and they all skidded to a halt in front of a spot in the earth that looked like freshly piled dirt.

"There's no headstone, but if the cemetery did this, they would've put some sort of marker to identify it," Quentin explained.

"This has to be it. Where else would Rest have found a grave so quickly?" Thea responded.

They all agreed and set about digging as quickly as they could. Quentin and Thea had to take breaks, the former due to his heart condition and the latter because she had just come out of a coma not too long ago. But Felicity and Diggle didn't stop and the blonde was really glad she had changed her heels for sneakers after all. With the four of them working together, it took them a little less than forty-five minutes.

Felicity was just praying this was the right place because if it wasn't, they were out of time. 

* * *

 

The air was definitely thinner, Oliver could feel as much. He knew that he was running out of time. He had realized a while ago that the benzodiazepine must have worn off, and that meant that the dizziness and the clamminess were not coming from the drug. It was carbon dioxide poisoning. He vaguely remembered reading something in college about it. Sometimes no oxygen wasn't necessarily the problem in a situation like this, it was the build-up of CO2 as he breathed. He had no idea what kind of class he had been taking that it was something they discussed, but that wasn't important to him at the moment.

He was drenched in sweat at this point and it occurred to him that dehydration might also be a problem, but for some time now he had been having trouble concentrating. Oliver supposed it didn't help that there was nothing to concentrate on in the ice chest, apart from counting his breaths to keep calm.

But he couldn't get his breathing under control no matter how hard he tried like his heart was permanently set to a faster rate now. It made it nearly impossible for him to control his anxiety and the feeling of fear was crushing his chest.

Oliver tried again to beat open the lid, logic fading away as he struggled to stay awake, but it didn't take long for his arms to become exhausted. He couldn't keep them up anymore, so he let them drop down to his chest.

The idea of just going to sleep became more appealing. It was taking to much effort to cling to consciousness and he just couldn't must up the energy try.

The thought had crossed his mind that all of this wasn't good. This apathy meant that he was dying.

Quietly, he huffed a laugh to himself, "It's been five hours."

He didn't know why he found it funny, but he laughed all the same. He let his eyes close. With the darkness surrounding him whether his eyes were open or closed, he decided not to waste his energy. Somewhere deep down, where he could still think clearly, he knew Felicity would be disappointed in him for giving up.  _But,_ he wondered to himself,  _am I giving up if I'm just taking a nap?_

He didn't think so, but he also didn't think he'd wake up if he did fall asleep, so he supposed it might count.

Thoughts were getting jumbled and confusing. He tried his counting breaths again but couldn't even count to four. A small smile crossed his face when he thought of Thea, that she would make fun of him for his mathematical lapse under different circumstances. He missed Thea. He wanted to see her again. He wanted to see all of them again. But in this endless darkness, he was becoming more and more convinced that he was never going to find his way out.

Distantly, he heard a faint scraping. He decided it must be his mind playing tricks on him.  _Is that something CO2 poisoning does_ _?_ he wondered.

But then he heard voices. Faint, and quiet, and he couldn't understand what they were saying. But he heard it.

"Fe-felicity?" he weakly called out to the emptiness. The scraping sound continued closer now.

Oliver summoned every last ounce of strength he could and banged one last time on the lid.

"Hey!" he called, hoping his voice was loud enough to carry through the steel and the layers of dirt above him.

"Oliver!" came a shout, losing volume as it made its way to him. But it was her. He knew it. He would know her voice anywhere.

He tried to answer, to call out to her and let her know that he was here, but he couldn't make his voice work. What felt like an eternity later, the scraping of what must have been a shovel hit the lid to the ice chest. It grated along, causing the screeching sound to echo through his confines and cause his head to resume its incessant pounding.

"Oliver, man, hold. We're almost there."

That was Diggle. Or at least, Oliver thought it was. He hoped it was. He didn't want Felicity digging a hole all by herself. Oliver shook himself, of course, it was Diggle.

"Does anyone have something to open the lock with?" Diggle asked and Oliver wondered briefly what Diggle could do with anything Oliver would have before his brain caught up and realized that it wasn't him who was being asked.

There was the sound of metal snapping, and then Oliver was being blinded by the light. 

* * *

 

Felicity stood up on level ground, biting her dirt-covered nails. Her ponytail had come completely undone at some point during the digging process and her blonde hair was now filthy as it blew freely in the wind. She had nixed her glasses as well. They had kept falling from her face and she was concerned that they'd either end up broken or slowing her down and time was not a luxury that they could afford.

They had dug a little bit further outward so that they could stand in the hole to open it, and that's where John was now, with the others gathered nervously around the freshly dug grave. Quentin was holding Thea in his arms, offering her the comfort that he wouldn't admit they both needed. John broke the lock and tossed it up to them, leaning forward and pulling on the handle. He tossed the lid open, where a wall of dirt arrested its momentum.

Oliver didn't sit up like she expected him to, but he did take a deep, desperate inhale of breath as oxygen was allowed into the cooler. He brought his bound hands up to shade his eyes from what must have been a blinding light as he continued to gasp for breath. Thea let out a sob and Felicity could see that the young woman was resisting the urge to jump down into the hole with her brother. Felicity was doing the same.

"Oliver," John asked from where he was crouched in the grave, up by where they now knew Oliver's head was, "You alright?"

The archer didn't respond verbally. He moved his hands down by his chin, keeping his eyes shut tight, and nodded. Without uttering a word, he held his hands up and Dig got the gesture. He grabbed his pocket knife and cut the zip-tie. Once free, Oliver's arms dropped down to his chest again.

"Do you need help?" Spartan asked.

Oliver nodded again, squinting his eyes and tilting his head to look up at his friend, "I can't feel my legs."

"Don't worry. We gotcha."

It was a little difficult to get Oliver out of the grave. Quentin had to come to stand by the edge, while John hopped into the ice chest and helped Oliver up. Then he reached his hands up and the deputy mayor took them, pulling him up and onto level ground. Once on his feet, Oliver couldn't keep them and almost went tumbling to the ground. Felicity and Thea rushed forward, however, the latter reached them first, and helped Quentin slowly lower Oliver down while John pulled himself back up. They moved him so he could lean against a tombstone, and he dropped his head back against it, still gasping for air. Felicity couldn't resist the urge any longer and sat down beside him so she could pull him into a hug.

From where her head was pressed against his chest, she felt a soft laugh rumble through him.

"I'd hug you back, but my arms aren't really working at the moment."

"That's okay. Just let me hold you."

Thea came to sit on his other side and also wrapped her arms around him, engulfing Felicity as well. Her head was on his shoulder as tears fell down her cheeks.

"Please stop scaring me like this," Felicity heard her whisper.

The group just sat there for a moment in silence, before Oliver muttered, "Biology."

"What?" Felicity lifted her head to look at him with tear-filled eyes.

"I remembered reading once about... carbon dioxide poisoning but I couldn't figure out what class it was in. It was Biology," he answered, looking down at her and smiling softly. Diggle chuckled from where he stood behind the tombstone, patting Oliver's head like a dog.

"You really were running low on air if you were thinking about school," he commented.

"Yea, I thought about a lot of things. Like how this leather suit is smelly and uncomfortable," Oliver remarked, tilting his head back against the gravestone to look at Diggle, "And that I am really tired and would like a nap."

It was Quentin's turn to laugh from the sidelines, "It's good to have you back, Oliver. How about you make it a long nap, and I'll tell the council you're on one of those spiritual retreats again."

Oliver gave a tired chuckle, before mumbling, "Thanks."

The ladies let go of Oliver and moved aside and Quentin and John came over to help him up. They each put an arm around their shoulders and half led, half carried him to the car.

Felicity was walking beside Lance as he turned to her, "He's gonna be okay, right?"

"He should be," she answered, looking to her husband fondly, "Like he said, carbon dioxide poisoning. He wasn't down there long enough for anything to be permanent. He'll probably just need a few days to recover."

Quentin huffed, "Good. He needs a vacation. You make sure he actually rests."

"Always do," Felicity smiled proudly, and Team Arrow made their way back to the car to finally take Oliver home.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I did actually research Carbon Dioxide poisoning but I also just picked the first article Google gave me so sorry if I am factually incorrect.  
> 2\. This is set somewhere in season 6 that somehow does not involve the new team people.  
> 3\. I just sat down for over 8 hours straight and wrote this so I really hope you guys like it.
> 
> Love ya!


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